Invisible
by Lydia R. Bolger
Summary: Rated G for now, I might change it. *smiles* A sweet-type story, a hobbit-child's coming-of-age and the contemplations of the hobbit who raised him...


The smallish wooden door swung open on recently oiled hinges as Bilbo nudged it lightly with his foot, and he delicately maneuvered his way through the door, carrying as he was a relatively awkward burden.

"There now," he murmured, setting the bundle of soft clothing and hobbit into a small saucer-shaped chair.  The child barely stirred, curling up into a tighter ball against the soft cushions with a sigh.  Drawing a careful breath, Bilbo closed his door; it clicked lightly beneath the press of his hand, but the young hobbit seemed to have fallen quite sincerely asleep, and his breathing was slow and even.

Bilbo sank onto a low stool in front of his fireplace, taking up a short cast-iron poker and stirring the grey-white ashes absently.  "I will do it," he concluded at last, smiling a somewhat strained smile.  His forehead was creased with new lines as he reached for a stick of kindling which he snapped over his knee.  "I will do it."  He cast a glance over his shoulder, watching the child's brown curls wavering with each breath.  "I will do it, for Fosco and Drogo."

* * *

Frodo woke in the pale grey of early morning, shivering in the entry-room of Bag End and rolling onto his side, peering out of his nest with wide blue eyes.  Bilbo had fallen asleep in his chair, chin resting on his chest, fire diminished to a few charred logs and scattered ash, swirling and rustling from the air seeping down the flue.  The nine-year-old hobbit swung his legs over the side of the chair, wincing a little from their stiffness, and then slowly stood, walking on sleepy bare feet toward the fire.  He bent down, reaching up to pull the chain and close the chimney off.

"Mmm," mumbled Bilbo, shifting his position.  Frodo grabbed onto the cool metal links, then tugged with all his might.  With a squeak and a creak, the metal hatchway closed, and the older hobbit sleeping behind him awoke with a start.  "What—?"

"It's only me," Frodo said quickly, turning to face his second cousin thrice removed.  In his squatting position, this was awkward: he swiftly lost his balance, but recovered by making it look like he had intended to take a seat on the hearth.

"Ah," Bilbo said, squinting awake and sitting up straighter; sleeping in a chair was not altogether good for one's back.  "And how are you feeling, my lad?"

"I—I'm all right, Uncle Bilbo," he said, brushing the back of his hand across his eyes swiftly, looking down at the floor in front of him.  The morning was still morning; the sun still rose, the grayish light slowly waxed pinkish and then warm and yellow, hobbits still woke up sore in their chairs, and Frodo was at Bag End.  To stay.  

The tears that prickled his eyes were too familiar, and he just inhaled slowly, paying attention to his heartbeat.  At least here, no one would be whispering to each other in not-so-hushed voices, saying ruthless and misled things that broke the hobbit-child's heart.  Bilbo was good and kind, and would not let the unfeeling cousins torment him with droppers full of water and cruel jokes.

"You know, lad, everything will be all right," commented Bilbo, leaning in close and speaking low, as though he were sharing a great secret.  "We will have great fun, you and I.  And the Hobbiton children will come over, and we can tell them the stories of my adventures.  You may read my book, and see some of the great Dragon's treasure, and have…cheese-omelets each morning, if you wish.  With mushrooms, even, if we can find any."  
Frodo's damp eyes lit with a soft glow that slowly burned away the gloss of tears and he smiled at Bilbo behind his tear-tracked face.  "I w-would like that, very much, Uncle," he said softly, tilting his curly-haired head upward.  Bilbo took him by the hands and pulled him to his feet, dusting him off.

"Then let's go look for some mushrooms," he said in a gruff voice, looking away for a moment.  He took a breath, then spoke brightly, "I believe there may be some out back.  Have you ever been out my secret exit?"  Frodo shook his head, eyes widening further.  "Well, then let's be off!"  And, allowing a grin to spread across his face, Bilbo started off through the winding hallways of his hole, trailed by a curious and silent-stepping Frodo.


End file.
